


The War Seems Far Away

by colonel_idiot



Category: Twosetviolin
Genre: 1917 AU, Blood, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Violence, WWI AU, please take heed of the warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:29:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26626756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colonel_idiot/pseuds/colonel_idiot
Summary: The two linger amidst the blizzard of petals. The longer they stay the more it reminds the two men of home. Of spring afternoons spent chasing each other through Eddy’s mum’s orchard. Of Brett climbing up the trees taunting the scrawny boy to come to follow. Of Eddy’s elder sister calling after them to come in for some pudding. Of memories, that seems so far removed from them.--In which Eddy and Brett are tasked to deliver a message to stop the Second Devon's attack at dawn.
Relationships: Eddy Chen & Brett Yang, Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	The War Seems Far Away

**Author's Note:**

> I had to watch the film 1917 (2019) for class and this scene has stuck with me for the past few days. So I wrote a fic about it, staring Brett and Eddy. Enjoy.

6 April 1917

\--

Two men dressed in British army garb crest the small hill, stopping to look about. The emerald hills of the French countryside continue to roll as far as the eye could see. An azure cloudless sky adds to the oddly quiet peace between skirmishes. Down the hill, the two men stood up was a mostly demolished gate, further beyond a small bridge, and a farmhouse which lay just beyond the small river crossing.

“Just past there,” the taller man points to a dirt path leading from the lone farmhouse.

“Right, lead on then Chen” the shorter man nods, motioning for the taller man to take point.

Both men tread with caution down the hill, rifles held at the ready for some German soldier to pop up from the brush. But they soon find these hills are just as empty as the abandoned German trenches were. Their only company was the warm spring breeze ruffling through their hair. Holding their rifles close their chest the two edge towards the broken-down gate.

“Brett,” the taller man glances back.

Brett hums, his sharp gaze fixes to the land beyond the verdant hills and clear blue sky.

“Why do you insist on calling me ‘Chen’?” the taller man stops just short of the gate, turning back to face his companion. “Brett, we’ve known each other since we were little.”

“‘s just how things are in the army,” Brett shrugs off the question, pushing past Chen to enter the gate.

The taller man quickens his strides to join his friend. The two venture forward amid the blizzard of white cherry blossoms. The trees having been felled not too long ago seeing as the petals still float along the arms of the spring breeze.

Chen runs his hand over the fallen trees blossoms “looks like lamberts. No, maybe Royal Anne’s or could be Montmorency’s,” he begins to wonder aloud. “Brett, what do you think?” his sharp eyes turning toward his smaller friend.

“Not sure,” Brett says looking contemplatively at the snow like petals. “Didn’t your mum have a cherry orchard? Should be more up your field, yeah?” deflecting the question back at his mate.

“I mean sure, but” Chen looks at the fallen trees, picking a blossom off the branch “kind of hard to tell when they’re still blossoms, Bretty.” He stops just ahead of Brett, turning around to tuck the white blossom he’d plucked behind the shorter man’s ear. Brett’s gaze still wanders away from his friend, not quite meeting each other’s eyes.

“These trees, aren’t they all goners?” Brett asks in a hushed tone.

“No, they’ll grow again when the stones rot. You’ll end up with more trees than before,” Chen replies, fiddling with Brett’s fringe.

“Hmm,” Brett closes his eyes, leaning into the taller man’s touch.

The two linger amidst the blizzard of petals. The longer they stay the more it reminds the two men of home. Of spring afternoons spent chasing each other through Chen’s mum’s orchard. Of Brett climbing up the trees taunting the scrawny boy to come to follow. Of Chen’s elder sister calling after them to come in for some pudding. Of memories, Brett would much rather not remember during the war.

“Come on, we got your sister and a whole company to save, Lance Corporal,” Brett says while brushing Chen’s hand away. Walking a ways ahead he pauses to see his friend had not followed.

“Chen,” Brett calls, “are you coming?” his tone tender, a tone not well suited for the dirt and grime of the trenches.

Chen shakes his head of whatever thoughts plagued him, jogging to catch up with the smaller man. Playfully hitting Brett’s arm when he does catch up. “Lance corporal? We’re the same rank bastard!”

Reaching the other end of the orchard they stop to lean up against what’s left of the bombed-out stone walls. Chen peers around where the gate should have been. A small animal pen two strides ahead, a small river crossing, and the farmhouse stood next to a barn worse for wear.

“Looks abandoned,” Chen notes.

“Let’s hope so,” Brett replies.

“We have to make sure,” Chen says, Brett finally meeting his gaze. The two men nod, steeling themselves to continue onwards.

Brett leads this charge, Chen following closely behind. The two men hold their rifles close, proceeding with bated breath. Hoping no Huns were hiding in wait. Pressing onward down the hill they finally meet the dirt path leading to the abandoned farmhouse. The barren bushes and trees do little to calm their nerves. It's as if death had moved in quickly and taken its share of the war. Passing over the small stream the men finally reach the abandoned farmhouse.

“I’ll take front, you take back,” Brett says under his breath.

Chen nods in affirmation, his form hunched over his rifle trying to make himself smaller. Treading lightly towards the back end of the small house. Brett, hunched over, continues along the dirt path, entering the farmhouse from the now broken-down door. His tension unwinds as he finds the house has been long since abandoned. Floors and overturned furniture covered in a thick layer of dust. Old floorboards creaking beneath him as he pads through rooms covered in shattered glass. Brett looks out the window to see his companion wandering about behind the house, no longer hunched over and clenching his rifle in a death grip.

Chen spots Brett looking at him through the window. “Find anything?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Brett replies, spying a long since abandoned dolly sitting by his foot. He presses on into the kitchen, trying not to think about the family who once inhabited this house. Imagining they’d gone to seek shelter elsewhere, rather than envisioning their lifeless bodies occupying a potter's field.

“Find any food?” Brett nearly walks into his taller companion, having been lost in his thoughts.

“No,” Brett whispers “I don’t quite like this place.” Not fully able to shake the gruesome image he’s conjured for himself. Chen continues into the dusty old farmhouse, no doubt looking for some not yet scavenged food. Brett continues out to the connecting little yard behind the house, wandering into the weathered old barn.

He looks out to the verdant hills, surprised to find a cow still grazing these pastures. All its other brethren shot dead and yet it continues to live on. Brett turns to spot a covered pail behind him, hoping to find milk he tips the lid away. Indeed there was still milk inside, fresh too by the taste of it. Pulling out his empty canteen he fills it with the fresh milk, drinking a bit to quench his parched throat. Having used the last bit of his water to clear the dust from his eyes not too long ago.

Light footsteps and the sounds of the map shuffling announce Chen's presence. “Map says get over that ridge, and it’s a straight shot to Écoust from there," he says.

“Good,” Brett says, twisting off his canteen, storing it back into his pack.

The low buzzing of planes encroached, growing closer and closer as the planes finally came into sight. Brett and Chen creep forwards watching the ensuing chaos in the clear blue sky.

“That our friends again?” Brett asks. The engine sounds familiar, but all planes sound the same really.

“Looks like it,” Chen leans up against the tall timber beam of the barn, looking out at the planes zipping by in the sky.

“Dogfight,” Brett wandered up the hill to catch a better glimpse of the planes’ deadly dance.

“Who’s winning?” Chen wonders aloud.

“Us, I think,” Brett looks back at his companion, pointing at the two British planes “two against one.” Smoke begins to billow out of the plane being chased, cornered, and clearly hit. Flying off course.

“They got him,” Chen says, eyes following the quick descent of the fighter.

The downed German plane veers off course falling into a nosedive, dipping below the hill beyond the barn. Not too soon after it crested that same hill, careening towards the Australian army men not too far off. They run. Adrenaline pumps through their system, legs moving them before either have a chance to grasp what is going on, but so is life in the field.

Brett and Chen dive out of the tiny barn just before the plane crashes into the building, halting the burning German fighter in its tracks. The smell of smoke, burning, and engine fuel overwhelm their senses. The pilot is all but a blithering mess, screaming for help, scrambling to free himself from the burning craft.

Chen scrambles to his feet, rushing toward the frantic German to pull the poor man out of the burning aircraft. Brett follows in step the two finally pull the poor man from his seat, hauling the man out to the small courtyard. Chen cradles the blithering German in his arms, trying to calm the delirious man. Brett stands, rifle in hand, panting he says, “we should put him out of his misery.”

“No!” Chen shouts, “get him some water.” He looks Brett in the eyes, his bleeding-heart not wanting to kill the German pilot. “He needs water,” Chen pleads with his partner.

Brett looks at his companion, at the barely responsive pilot, and back to the pleading eyes of his dear friend. Against his better judgment, Brett shoulders his rifle, going along with his companion’s whims. As he walks toward the hand pump he looks back every so often to check on the taller man.

“It’s all right. It’s all right, stead,” he still hears the dulcet timbre of Chen’s voice trying to soothe the wounded man. Brett’s hands shake, pulling his metal helmet off to fill with water. Pumping, again, and once more. As the water starts rushing out of the pump Brett hears the agonizing scream of his companion behind him. Turning on his heel he sees the Hun, knife in hand, and Chen stumbling backward clutching his stomach.

“No. _No. NO!_ ” Brett sees red. Striding quickly toward the seated Hun pilot, readying his rifle and he shoots. Once. Twice. Thrice. The pilot falls over dead.

“Eddy!” Brett shouts running towards his dear friend.

“Bloody bastard,” Eddy hisses in pain. Pulling at his vest and shirt to better assess the wound. The knife struck his lower abdomen, blood pouring out of the wound. A gasp escaped Eddy as he stumbled on to the ground, bowled over holding his still bleeding wound.

“Eddy, Eddy!” Brett yells while flipping the wounded man onto his back. He kneels next to Eddy, pulling out a bandage to press against the bleeding wound. Telling Eddy "we have to stop the bleeding." Putting more pressure on the wound to slow the blood flow.

Eddy writhes in pain. “Stop it. _Stop! STOP IT!_ ” Clawing at the shorter man’s to ease the pressure on his wound.

“It’s all right. It’s all right. It’s going to be all right, Eddy,” Brett tries to soothe the taller man. Running a hand through Eddy’s unruly hair, hushing the man.

“Ow,” Eddy now somewhat calmer.

“Okay,” Brett stands up, “we’re going to stand up,” he puts his legs on either side of Eddy’s body. Gripping Eddy by the armscye of his vest, Brett musters all the strength he has and tries to pull the taller man up to stand.

“No, I can’t, I can’t,” Eddy whines when his knees give way and collapses back to the ground. His total weight and pack pull Brett down onto the wounded man.

Brett quickly moves off Eddy, back to putting pressure on the still very much bleeding wound. “We have to get to an aid post,” he argues with Eddy.

“I can’t,” Eddy’s voice filled with panic.

“I’ll carry you. It isn’t very far,” Brett tries to plead with his oldest mate. Not wanting to lose another to this bloody awful war.

“Just bring a doctor here!” Eddy yells.

“We can't, we have to go together,” Brett looks to the sky seeing the sun begin to fall from its zenith. Daylight waning, their time to deliver the message growing ever shorter. Brett shuffles behind Eddy, trying to pull the man up from behind. “Come on we’re going to get up. We’re going to get up!” Brett yells at the wounded man, desperate to get him moving. Adjusting his grip so he was lifting Eddy by his armpits.

“Put me down!” Eddy begins to flail about. “Put me down, you bastard,” spitting and hissing at Brett’s attempts to move him to the aid post. “Please! Put me down,” he begs with desperation laced in his words. Brett lets go, to quell Eddy’s nerves but also his strength gives out, the two men collapse back on to the dusty courtyard. Moving back to Eddy’s side Brett once more assessed the knife wound. Tossing the bloodied bandages and reaching for another to slow the bleeding.

“We have to keep moving,” if not for the mission for your sake Eddy, Brett bites back those words rising in the back of his throat.

“Let me sit,” Eddy thoroughly drained, both of his energy and blood.

“No, we can’t. We have to find the Second, remember? Your sister. We have to go, now,” Brett says a bit forcefully while pressing a fresh gauze to the wound, cradling Eddy’s shoulder with his other arm.

“You can start on without me. I’ll catch up,” Eddy’s words come out breathless.

“No, you can’t stay here. We have to move. Alright? We have to move,” Brett lets go of Eddy’s shoulder to adjust the dressing pressed against the wound. When he does his companion’s head lolls back. With brows furrowed Brett looks back at his friend, wrapping his arm around the wounded man’s shoulders to help Eddy sit up. “Come on,” he encourages, “come on. Come on!” Eddy finally sits up. “That’s it,” Brett threads his bloodied hand under Eddy’s knees “come on Eddy,” he shouts trying to stand while carrying Eddy.

A scream rips from Eddy’s throat. Brett isn’t strong enough to carry Eddy and his heavy pack, so they collapsed back on to the ground. Brett landing atop Eddy’s bloodied form.

“Your sister! We have to find your sister!” Brett yells desperately at Eddy. Hoping that the need to find his sister will motivate him enough to keep on moving.

“You’ll recognize her,” Eddy gasps out. Brett moves to cradle’s Eddy’s head in his lap, running a hand through Eddy’s choppy chestnut brown hair. “You’ve seen her before. Lot like me. A bit older, longer hair.”

The burning barn’s roof collapses behind them, the fire crackles louder tossing embers up into the air. Their senses overwhelmed the ash and the sickening iron scent of blood.

“What are they? Are we being shelled?” Eddy wonders deliriously, confused by the embers flickering by.

“They’re embers. The barn is on fire,” Brett replies quietly.

Eddy moves a hand down to his wound, carefully placing it over Brett’s. “I’ve been hit. What was it?” Eddy asks.

“You were stabbed,” Brett looks down at his dear friend, Eddy's eyes glassy with confusion.

Eddy’s brows furrow, like they always do when he’s deep in thought. “Am I dying?” voice quivering in shock and fear.

Brett looks up to the sky. Trying to still the tears which gathered in the corners of his eyes and think how best to answer his dying friend. “Yes,” quiet, “I think you are,” mournful.

“Oh no, no,” Eddy’s voice no longer desperate or panicked, just quiet. Quieter than Brett had ever been used to. Eddy pulls aside his leather vest, pointing to the envelope in his chest pocket.

“This?” Brett asks.

“Inside,” Eddy nods.

Taking his hand away from Eddy’s wound Brett plucks the envelope from Eddy’s chest pocket. Opening it up and pulling a photograph from inside. Bloodied in the corner but it was a photograph of Eddy with his mum, sister, and Brett. Likely taken shortly before Brett was shipped off to Europe for the war judging by the gear he was wearing. He hands the photograph to Eddy, the wounded man holds the photograph close to his heart. Brett returns his hand to the wound, pressing it will do little now that Eddy’s all but bled out.

“Will you write to my mum for me?” Eddy breaks to silence.

“I will,” Brett replies solemnly.

“Tell her I wasn’t scared,” Eddy’s free hand moves toward his wound.

“Anything else?” Brett inquires, lacing their fingers together.

“I love them, I wish that… I wish that…” Eddy’s breaths grow even fainter. “Talk to me Brett, talk to me. Tell me you know the way,” Eddy begs on his last breaths.

Brett swallows his sobs, “I know the way,” he reassures in a firm tone. Tightening his grip on Eddy’s hand he continues “I’m going to head southeast until I hit Écoust. I’ll pass through the town and out to the east. All the way to the Croisilles wood.”

“It’ll be dark by then,” Eddy muses, shutting his eyes.

“That won’t bother me,” Brett replies. “I’ll find the 2nd. I’ll give them the message and I’ll find your sister. Just like you. A little older-” Brett pauses when he stops feeling the rhythmic up and down of Eddy’s chest. Biting back tears, he looks away from Eddy’s pale restful face.

Brett pulls out the message meant for the Colonel of the Second Devons and stashes it away in his pocket. Pulls the map from Eddy’s vest pocket, but it’s useless now, completely soaked in blood so he tosses the bloody thing. Rifling around for the dog tags, pulling it off to hand over to Eddy’s sister. Sliding off the single golden ring on Eddy's left hand for safekeeping. Brett had given Eddy that ring as a promise he would come back home in one piece, back to his dear Eddy. Tucking the photograph back into Eddy's shirt Brett moves the now deceased Eddy elsewhere. Somewhere so that his body isn't picked clean. So that someone will come back to ship Eddy back home to his mother.

Finally, he places a kiss onto Eddy’s forehead, one on each eyelid, and tucks a small cherry blossom behind Eddy’s ear before moving onward to Écoust. To stop the Second Devons and to find Eddy's sister, Belle.

**Author's Note:**

> Belle is a nurse working with the Second Devons, so not on the front lines but could still be hit by shelling or stray shrapnel. Much of the dialogue is lifted from the movie itself but I tried to include their voice, not sure if I succeded. 
> 
> History Fact: "Hun" was a common nickname for the German used by the British and Americans. It came about due to British propaganda comparing the German assault to that of the brutal warfare of Attila the Hun.  
> \--  
> I hope you are doing well and staying healthy.


End file.
